


Reset and Relearn

by EyebrowObsession



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Medication, Other, Panic Attacks, Psychological Disorder, Pyromania, Reset and Relearn Universe, Smoking, characters are OOC, post apocalyptic setting, tags and rating will be changed and added as time goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyebrowObsession/pseuds/EyebrowObsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've failed." She practically spat, her cold eyes narrowed and full of disgust.<br/>"I gave you nine years, and /this/ is what you give me?" She gestured to them, and he saw their eyes turn to him with mixed emotions.<br/>"You have to understand what I had to work with, if I just had a few more years Hele-" He was interrupted as she slammed her fist on her armrest. He flinched and went quiet.<br/>"No. It's over. I already have replacements."<br/>"No- Wait, don't do this! I promise I'll have them ready by next summer!"<br/>The click of someone cocking their gun was loud, especially to unfamiliar ears.<br/>"I can't let you have another year... or another minute even." Her eyes were hard, steeled by professionalism and her frozen soul.<br/>He turned to them, his own eyes fearful and desperate.<br/>"Run boys run."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He sat up and stretched, the sun filtering through the windows, the air damp from last night's rain. Sighing as his back cracked the southerner lazily scratched his chin. Hm. He needed to shave. That meant Soldier and Heavy were due for a shave as well. Swinging his legs over the bed he stood with another loud crack.

Before The Reset he'd always slept in his workshop. So, that's where he slept now. Even if it was a bit of a ways from the kitchen, or the main bathrooms. Luckily he had a small sink and mirror. It was once used to wipe grease and oil from skin, but now the most it was used for was a simple morning refresher. Splashing his face with cold water he looked at his growing stubble in the mirror. 

Denim blues in a round face that carried a strong jaw were a trait he'd gotten from Grandpa. That's what his mother has always said. Engineer smiled softly at the thought. His mother... he sure wished he had her guidance. Especially with the boys.

There was the sound of barefeet on the hardwood floor, two different sets. Those boys. He turned just as the door swung open and two bodies tumbled inside. Waiting patiently for the two to scramble to their feet he gave a knowing sigh.

"I'm guessin' you boys want breakfast?"

The shorter of the two shoved the other over, a buck toothed grin set in boyish features. He was the youngest, anyone could see, since his eyes held no bags and his skin bore no wrinkles.

"'Course we do Pops!! Why else would we be hea?" And he cracked his knuckles obnoxiously, constantly shifting from side to side as if he was about to go on a run.

He would have if it was three years earlier, before The Reset.

"Well then help your brother up Scout. It's too early fer rough housin', and since ya know the rules about doin' that this early then I think ya know that ya have to help me with breakfast." He scolded the boy, who groaned and rolled his baby blue eyes. Engineer simply raised his eyebrow at the freckled trouble maker while his brother snickered from below. 

"That goes fer you too." Scout grinned at his brother while helping him up, and said brother groaned dramatically. Standing slumped and with a pout that exaggerated his long face he huffed upsettedly. Engineer always found it hard not to laugh when Sniper did that. The man had never done such things before, thanks to his maturity level and the fact that he was mentally thirty. Not so much anymore... but the memory was enough to give contrast. 

"It's Scout's fault. He was the one runnin' an' bein' all loud an' troyin' to trip me. Oi don' wanna make brekky. Means it'll be cold when Oi foinally eat." He grumbled, kicking at the floor with one foot, arms crossed and brown eyes looking down from under the bushy brows.

"I saw you shovin' too, so don't make me add somethin' else! Maybe next time ya'll'll think 'fore ya come racin' down that there hall. Now... Let's go make breakfast." 


	2. Scout.

He never followed Pops down the hall. Not even if the old man asked or reprimanded him. He didn't have time for those things. Pops was slow. He didn't understand how fast life was. It was fast. Fast fast. Running down the hill fast. The days left quickly, and he knew he couldn't last forever.

It scared Scout. He wanted to do things. Things like... well... things! He couldn't think of a lot of things he hadn't done, but he knew there were still things! Maybe he could finally find a place to dig up fossils!! Pops said it took a long time and a lot of studying to be able to do that, but then again, as smart as he was, Pops didn't understand that life was fast!

Had he mentioned that already?

The hyper heathen was already in the kitchen, a mixing bowl out, a spoon in hand. He wanted pancakes. He wanted to make them now. But Pops always let Py use the stove.

He groaned and slumped over the counter. A freckled chin dug into his arm, eyebrows furrowed and eyes bored. It took foreeeeeverrr for them to wake up Py. His brother slept like a rock!! Scout huffed with annoyance again as he tap tap tapped the spoon on the counter. And then the bowl. And then his foot tap tap tapped the wooden floor.

Screw it. 

He wanted pancakes. He was at least gonna make the dough, because there was a chance they'd be halfway down the hall by the time he was finished. Grabbing the flour and the milk from the fridge he set both on the counter. Crossing his arms he narrowed his eyes. How many cups of each was it again. ...? 

He'd figure it out later. He knew the consistency, so all he had to do was match that right? Hey... maybe he could add something else too! Pops threw in some sugar sometimes... Too bad they hadn't any at the moment. Although the sugar cane was almost ready again... 

Baby blues glanced from the bowl of almost complete pancake mix to the fridge. Bowl. Fridge. Bowl. Fridge..... Bowl... Fridge... He tapped his foot and hummed before approaching the fridge. Maybe. Maybe they had some left.

Opening the fridge up and shoving things aside the searching chef found what he was looking for. Grabbing a handful and rinsing them in the sink he laid them on the counter. Stems were removed, the flesh cut into five pieces. He may have snuck one or two... but who needed to know? He swept the pieces into the bowl just as Pops came into the kitchen. The slowpoke eyes went wide, mouth agape, expression mirrored by Sniper and his other brother Pyro. 

Scout gave them a bewildered look, freckled face scrunched gently.

"What ya starin' at?"

Their faces were starting to freak him out... Scout bit his lip with buck teeth, fingers tapping together nervously as Pops approached.

"You's guys was takin' too long, so I just...." His words trailed off as the shortest man in the room walked past him and to the bowl, grinning. His own expression lightened as he was looked upon with prideful eyes by his father figure. 

"Y'know I never thought about addin' strawberries....And ya didn't make a mess, or cut your fingers! You're such a smart kid..." Pops reached up and messed his dirty blonde hair and Scout grinned.

"Well I hafta be if I wanna be an archaeologist!!"


	3. Sniper

Sniper knew an opportunity when he saw one. When Dad and his sister Pyro approached Scout with smiles, it became his opportunity to skip out on breakfast work.

Slipping away was as easy as breathing. The three were distracted. Besides. He had siblings to wake up. Dogs to walk. Trees to climb. Clouds to be watched. He was busy. Chores were something he had to do, yes, but the lanky bushman had specific ones he already took care of. Specific ones he kept in order. Done his way. His time. And they may seem to never get done, but that was because he had a system. His system. 

In this system each chore had a plan. For example, a plan for each of his brothers. Or at least how to get them up. A plan for everyone he met at every stage of conciousness. 

Example A: Demo. He was the first to wake up after Pyro, because he took a while, and you had to find him. Why? He had noctambulism . That's what Medic said. Sniper just called it sleep walking. In other words, his older brother would wander around and end up somewhere completely different than where he was supposed to be. His bed. 

Today, he was under the stairs. In just his pajama bottoms and a blanket. Sighing heavily Sniper got on his knees, too tall to stand under the stairs. He reached out and grabbed the fluffy brother's shoulder. Shaking gently he grumbled a few encouraging words before starting to really shake him. 

"C'mon ya big ol' goof. Brekky's started 'n Oi don't want it cold." 

Demo murmured softly and made a noise like a soft boom. He reached out and covered the horse-faced younger with one hand, mumbling. 

"...Yae're such a baby. S'what if it's cold? I gonnae get some more sleep... Yae go'n get up somebody else." With that he shoved his brother backwards, rolling over and curling up further. 

Sniper's eyebrows drew together as his lips tugged downward. At least it was time for step two. The last step. He hated this step. It didn't happen very often, and was used as a last resort. 

"....... Oi'll play in one o' your campaigns tonoight. You choose the beast."

Demo sat up immediately with a toothy grin. 

"Really? Even though yae say it be a pain in yer arse? Yea'll do it?"

God, Sniper hated rolling a monster character for Demo's Dungeons and Dragons campaign. He hated it even more when the character was made for him. He only liked to play casually, as a hero, and on days where he couldn't be outside. Yet sometimes this was the only way to get Demo up... 

"....Yeah..." He grumbled, pouting as his older brother came out from under the stairs to scoop him in snug hug.

"Good, cause I needed someone to be me newest beast. Glad to see yae'll be th'one givi' her a go! Now, let's go wake the others up before th'food gets cold~!"


	4. Pyro

After being woken up by her older brother Pyro had followed him to the kitchen with Dad. He hadn't said much on the way there, simply had listened to Sniper and Dad talk. Talk about how Sniper needed a haircut because he was getting leaves stuck in his hair again. They didn't worry about Pyro, and Pyro didn't worry about Pyro. It was always this way before breakfast.

Before breakfast, when she took her medication and cooked pancakes, everything was boring. It wasn't like there weren't exciting things around him. There was. It was just... boring. Everything was a sort of grey. A dull lacking of color. The walls, the floor, her family, their pets. Dull. Grey. Boring. 

It was when she began to cook breakfast that things changed. Having been bored and uninterested by Scout's explanation he decided to simply begin breakfast. It wasn't that Scout was boring. It wasn't that she had heard this before. No, he could just see where this was going. That's what made things boring, other than the lack of color. Everything was easy to figure out. Everything was simple and easily solved. 

The stove crackled and flicked to life with a ring of flame. Pyro seemed to freeze, eyes fixed on the light that danced and flickered with every breath. Color bled from this light, colors bright and lively. It filled the corners of the room, the lights of his family's eyes, even the shadows of the objects around her.

Pancakes. Making pancakes. Making pancakes with happy faces. Making others happy with the happy face pancakes that were made from the light. The light! The light made others happy!! It made the shadows glow and the water bubble and the stickers on the fridge giggle. He wanted to spread the light!

She turned when she felt Dad put a hand on her shoulder. Grinning he sat down, clapping at the happy faced pancakes on his plate. It was even more special when Dad put the special sprinkles on top! She dug in with vigor, feeling happy little sparks as the sprinkles were chewed with the pancakes.

He blinked a bit. The pancakes were gone. Sniper was washing dishes as punishment for skipping out on breakfast making. The rest of her brothers were sitting around talking or eating. Dad it seemed was still eating as well.

This happened every time he took his medicine. She'd experience a jump in time between when she took it and when the effect kicked in. His older brother Medic, the one who'd helped Dad make the medicine, said there wasn't anything they could do about it. Still... that was the only drawback. Pyro didn't see the world as boring, but it wasn't bright and colorful. It was.... how the others saw it. That's what she figured anyways. 

In other words, Pyro was happy with how things were. Even if he had to take medication every morning, it was better than the dull and better than the brightness. It was perfect.


	5. Spy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week I happened to be out of home state and without WiFi. I hope you will all forgive me, and as an apology I've done a double update.

He was always the first up but nobody ever knew. He stayed in his room. He liked his room. He was alone in it too. It was the only bedroom in this house that had one person in it. Father had given up his room and moved to his workshop. Father said he wanted to be near his workshop anyways. It was the second day that the room's current occupant could remember.

He could remember lots of things. Little details and oddities. Like how the eldest brother always liked his hair trimmed, and how he perfected it every morning with three quarter sized blobs of hair gel. Or perhaps how his younger brother had three main rhythms when tapping his pencil, but at least ten when tapping with his foot. Or how his only sister exhaled with every step of her right foot, unless she was stressed and purposely controlling her breathing.

It's why they called him Spy. He had a knack for these things. For knowing them by heart, even if he'd only seen it happen once. He sometimes used them to mimic his brothers or sister. However it was always in good spirits.

There were a few habits, however, he refused to do. Example A being Soldier and Demo's love for loud noises. He hated loud noises. Ever since he could remember... the loud noises scared him. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid of things like thunder or trees falling, but the loud noises created by man? By a chair or a fist or sometimes a bomb? Those... those frightened him. He would find himself somewhere else when those things happened. He would be short of breath and dizzy...

Something else frightened the Spy too. It seemed so silly. It seemed like a gift... but.... that was in its lightest form. Sometimes he would remember words. They were always smooth sounding, and the vowels could be felt in his mouth. The loner caught himself trying to whisper them... Yet he covered his mouth. He covered his mouth and then his ears because if he whispered the words he thought in the words and the others would stop making sense. Nothing would make sense and only he could understand the words. They told him to hide, to cloak, to mimic. They told him that he loved his brother very much. They told him to not look back. They told him to escape before his brothers saw. They told him to smoke. And smoke. And smoke. The words told him so much. ... 

There was a soft solid sounding knock on the door. Heavy knocked like that. His older brother knew his aversion of the loud, and took extra care when knocking since he was the strongest of their family. 

He straightened his clothes as he stood. For some reason wrinkles bothered him. So did shoes with too many holes. Walking to the door he opened it and gave a polite smile, eyes watching carefully.

"Good morning brother... Did you sleep well?" And he shut the door behind him with a soft click, key in pocket. As Heavy described his dreams he made sure to keep beside or behind the older sibling.

He hated to leave his back open.


	6. Demo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the second half of the double update took so long. I tried writing a chapter after posting the first, but my batteries were drained, and by the time I felt recharged there was some personal and technical issues going on.  
> I hope you enjoy this anyways though!  
> Oh! I Try To update every Tuesday, but with school starting soon I might have to work something else out-

He sat down at the table with the brothers that were there, and they all ate Scout and Pyro's pancakes together. Personally Demo thought they were the best he'd ever eaten. It was thanks to the strawberries. 

It was because of the natural flavor to it. That spark of energy and sweetness you couldn't get from anywhere else usually. It was why he had a part of their garden to himself. For fruits. 

He had all sorts of sweet things growing in his little corner, but he'd left an area where they all could spread a blanket and play some a good game of Dn'D. They brought a small fold out table of course, since the ground was uneven, but it was a price he was willing to pay. 

He loved not only growing edible sweet things, but also sweet things because of their smell. Lavender, daisies, and all the rest. It was something that made him feel calmer at heart. 

He wasn't allowed to grow grapes though. Once, Dad had him plant some. It started put nicely. They would all eat the grapes and play their games.

He left a basket of them out in the sun once, by mistake. He'd left them there from noon to next morning. When he found them they'd looked good, so he'd eaten a couple. 

At first.

The grapes had gone from sweet to slightly bitter, but the more he ate the better they went down. Soon a couple turned into a handful, then half the basket. By then his mind had felt a kind of dizzy. His words were slurred and it was hard to walk to get a drink... and then...

When Dad had woken him the sleepwalking had been surprised to have stayed in the same place. There was also a splitting headache though. ... and there were holes in his memory... 

Dad took him to his oldest brother for some resting and lots of water. By the time he was back in the garden the grapes were gone. Dad had him plant something else there, and ever since that day there hadn't been any grapes. 

Demo looked outside to the garden and sighed softly. He hadn't seen what was so bad about those grapes... he was tempted to grow them somewhere secret sometimes... 

"Would ya like another pancake son? We've still got plenty before Heavy and Soldier get here." The older man smiled warmly, sliding another pancake onto Demo's plate. 

"You'll be needin' it if ya plan on workin' with us in the garden today."

"Thanks Dad~" But then again, he would rather not disappoint anybody. 

"Yo Pops can ya come over here with those?"

"How can you still be so hungry, you've had four! I mean, I guess you need it. You are still kind of small." And with that Scout sent him a glare, to which Demo laughed softly. 


	7. Heavy.

"I remember dream very well this time." He began, walking with his thinnest of brothers, whose eyes were sharp. His brother listened well with those eyes. They constantly flicked and focused on his movements as he told his dream. 

"Lots of fire. Lots of sound. Lots of yelling. Everyone was there, and there were men who looked like us. They wore red. We wore blu." Heavy didn't like to talk very often, but when he did, he knew what he was saying. He often talked to Spy. Spy was like him in some ways. The two were close. 

When Heavy needed to talk, Spy would listen. His little brother had said it was because he liked to listen. He also understood his problem with words. 

When Spy would have problems with his words, Heavy was there. He would find them a safe feeling place. He would then help Spy through his problem. 

Heavy was protective and caring with all of his brothers of course. Yet he had a few he trusted with his own problems. 

"Was like the war that is in the books. Yet it seemed silly. Who fights a war with only nine? It is not enough pieces for even a game of chess." Chess, a game he seldom played but normally watched Spy and Medic play together. He understood some basic rules, but their were many things that confused him. Why should he sacrifice his pawn? The pawn is the same as the King, it is the same color and weight. The pawn is just as useful. War was a silly thing. The only thing that happened was hurt. 

"We won in dream this time. I think it means good day for us." He smiled and gave his thinnest brother a pat on the shoulder. He made sure to be light. He was strong, and this brother was fragile at times. 

"I zhink so to..." His brother flashed him a light smile. 

"Say... 'Eavy....'Ou finished zhat book, right? Zhe one about how zhings are zhe way zhey are?" Heavy knew what book Spy was talking about. 

Because he had an odd way of speaking, and because he was so big, some of his brothers thought him to be... stupid. They thought he was a cuddly bear who protected his family with his strength. 

He was strong... but he was not as stupid as they thought. The book Spy was talking about was about Philosophy. Heavy knew it was supposed to be a hard book because Spy had a hard time reading it, and Spy was smart. He was also very good at math, and used numbers to organize the small library he had. Every now and again someone would borrow or return a boom. Sometimes a brother would even gift one of their own hand. 

"This one tells a lot about time. It was very nice." 

Spy seemed to listen closer as they neared the kitchen. Since he couldn't understand the books well, Heavy often helped him. It made them both happy. 

" 'Ow so?" 

"Well..." Heavy began, as they sat at the big table, pancakes soon appearing on their plates.


	8. Soldier

They didn't need to go and get him for breakfast. He was already up. It wasn't that he got up by choice, it just happened. He naturally woke up early. 

The morning was nice anyways. He liked the feel of the cool, wet grass under his feet as he went outside. At first he hadn't known what do with himself. He felt.... like there was a lot of empty space. He had all this energy but nothing to do with it. 

That's when he found his best friend. 

It had been a colder morning that spring. The ice stuck to the buds of the trees and tickled his feet. He'd brought a sweater, but it was getting a bit too hot for him. A small squeaking and peeping noise had made him stop. 

The broad shouldered man had begun to stalk around. He followed the sound, checking under bushes and rocks. 

When he reached into a log, something bit into his hand. It was weak, but there was enough pressure to surprise and cause discomfort. Soldier yanked his hand from the log with a shout. 

Dangling from his hand was a baby raccoon, thin and tiny, but eyes filled with fire. Soldier looked into those eyes and fell in love instantly. There was something about this raccoon.... 

Maybe it was that they both started so small... or both had energy. Maybe it was just a connection like Medic had with his birds. Soldier didn't know for sure. What he did know, is that he liked this raccoon and it's moxy. 

It became the thing that gave him purpose. Every morning when he woke he would feed President Red. His younger brother Scout always scoffed at the silly name, but Soldier thought it was fitting. This raccoon was a leader, a mammal made to be on top. Plus, he had red eyes. So President Red it was. 

President Red wasn't the only one either. When he was full grown, Soldier worried he would have nothing to do in the morning. No more feeding, petting, cleaning, playing with his beloved friend... 

The next spring, President Red kept disappearing. When Soldier finally followed him, he found that the masked critter had built a family in a pile of wood. 

Not only did Soldier have some new friends, he also had a new goal. He used the wood to build a small house. It was big enough that he could stand in. However he couldn't move too much, maybe a few steps in each direction. 

That was two years ago. Since then he expanded the house, seeing as there were now three generations of raccoons living in the building. Every morning he fed them, took roll call, washed them, and played with them. Since he'd practically raised every single one of them they listened to him. 

That was the other half of his morning. Soldier had figured out they were smart and listened well. He was teaching them commands and tricks. Nothing close to human possibility... but it was still extraordinary. He even was starting to get some of his brothers to warm up to his second family. 

Medic was a little iffy, but he seemed to feel better after the coons stopped eating his birds. 

"FFFRONT AND CENTER!!" Came the call this morning, words muffled by a mouthful of pancake. Soldier stood outside the dwelling with a grin. He always yelled, since it seemed the critters responded best when he did. It was a habit he carried indoors. Pa wasn't so happy about that. 

About two dozen striped tails appeared in front of him, President Red immediately crawling up and into his jacket. Soldier laughed as his best friend gave him a love bite on his ear before settling on his head like an oversized helmet. 

"I love you too President Red~"


End file.
